


A Stolen Moment

by amyfortuna



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Genderplay, Pegging, Power Dynamics, Psychic Bond, gentle domination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: On the night before the Fellowship sets out from Imladris, Arwen slips into Aragorn's bedroom.





	A Stolen Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Savageseraph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/gifts).



She moved through the dark halls of Imladris, her white gown brushing the floor, her feet bare. This late on a winter's night, all had retired to their beds, except for those few who had wandered out to the river to sing to the bright Moon above. She could hear them faintly as she passed by an open window, and with a slight frown, closed it to keep the cold air out, before tiptoeing onward. 

Aragorn's bedroom was the one he had lived in as a child, and by Elrond's orders, it was always set aside for his use, even when he was far away. She smiled to herself as she approached the door and glimpsed the flickering light of candles beneath it. 

Arwen rapped on the door with her knuckles once, hearing Aragorn's soft, startled gasp from inside. She did not wait for invitation but opened the door, slipping inward silently, and closing it behind her again. 

"You came," Aragorn said, looking up at her from the bearskin rug by the fire where he was lying clothed in a dark robe. His hair, clean and only just dry, lay in waves about him, and he was clean-shaven. His pack, ready to go in the morning, lay on a chair by the window, the clothes he would put on in the morning atop it. He wore the Evenstar about his throat, and it glimmered faintly against his skin. He sat up, reaching out a hand to her. "I did not think you would." 

"I could not let you leave without a proper farewell," Arwen said, taking his hand and smiling down at him. She knelt down, still taller than he was seated on the floor, and with one single, gentle push, thrust him down upon the rug. He went sprawling, willing, down on his back, gazing up at her adoringly. "I will give you a memory to carry with you, and at the same time forge with you a bond of thought, that I may watch over you on this great Quest. Though we may be separated, we will not be apart." 

The fire in his eyes kindled at her words, and he held out his hand to her again. "You may have anything that you wish of me, beloved." 

She smiled at his words, and took his hand in both of her own for a moment, leaning forward for a kiss, soft and slow, warm and tender. "I will open you up entirely," she breathed against his lips. "I will make you mine in ways that you have never been anyone's." 

He shivered underneath her, already breathless, eyes wide with anticipation. Throughout the long years of their courtship the dynamic they both preferred had become readily apparent: he laid himself at her feet like he would for no other, and she thrilled to the power of having him on his knees for her. Though they had never fully consummated their union, saving that particular act which might engender children for a future marriage bed, over the years in secret and stolen moments she had learned much of what they both desired and needed. 

This act was something more intimate than everything which came before it. She had taught him the mutual joy of having his mouth on her, had enjoyed doing the same to him, and both of them were well acquainted with each other's hands. She stood slowly, and reached for the cloth bag she had carried with her, removing first from it a bottle of oil. 

"Disrobe," she murmured calmly, and turned her back, fiddling with the straps she already wore about her waist, carefully removing the slick-carved wooden phallus from the bag and placing it into the place designed for it. It was as smooth as velvet in her hands, and not overly large. She had spent many days in carving it herself, idly dreaming of the future days when she might use it. 

Arwen undid her own dress, pulling it off unselfconsciously and laying it over the chair by the door. She made sure the door was locked, and quietly rearranged the small rug near the door so that it would block any sound coming out of the room. 

When she turned back again, Aragorn was lying back on the bearskin rug in much the same manner he had been when she originally entered the room, but now he was naked, and his erection rose up between his legs. Arwen discreetly rearranged the phallus to press against her, feeling a familiar throbbing start between her own legs. She smiled at him, naked now but for the straps covering her hips and lower body, and he let a hand fall to his cock, stroking himself as though he could not forebear at the sight of her. 

"No," she said, and he obediently let his hand fall away, face relaxing into wonder and appreciation of her. It was a look she liked to see on him. 

"My Queen," he breathed, and then, a touch of humour dancing through his voice, "or perhaps my King?" 

She knelt down beside him, taking his hand and bringing it to the phallus. "What does this tell you?" He stroked the phallus just as he had his own cock moments before. 

"That I want it to take me," he said. "You said that you would open me up and make me yours. I want that." 

The familiar rhythm of his hand, transmuted now against her with gentle strokes, was both teasing and loving at the same time. For a few moments she allowed herself to enjoy it, along with the yielding look in Aragorn's eyes. 

Then she smiled, sharp, delighted, sure, and pulled away, moving between his legs and taking a moment to slide her hand softly down his cock, standing proudly, and his soft balls, not yet drawn up tight, and then down further to his hole. He gasped as her finger brushed over it, but did not penetrate, not yet. 

She drew away, unstoppered the bottle of oil and covered her fingers lavishly with it, then with no more signal to him than a slight lift of her eyebrows, pressed forward into him. 

Aragorn breathed in harshly as one slender finger, slick with oil, entered him. He was trembling a little as he breathed out two words. "My lady." 

Arwen glanced up, giving him a look full of love, then carried on slowly thrusting one finger in and out of him. After a moment she added a second, and he took another deep breath but this one was less harsh. Arwen brushed her senses against Aragorn's mind and found that the initial burn of penetration was starting to give way to mindless pleasure within him. She smiled to herself, and slowly, carefully, added a third finger, still gently thrusting them. 

Aragorn's eyes fluttered shut. He was lost in a world of sensation and feeling, surrounded by Arwen's love and desire, concentrated at where her fingers were inside him. They brushed momentarily against something within him that had him gasping and moaning, crying out syllables that could have been her name. 

At last she judged him ready. With a tender hand, she encouraged him into position and he wrapped his legs around her waist as she slowly entered him. The feel of the warm slippery wood and Arwen's body pressed up against him was beyond anything they had ever done before. 

Almost instinctively, he let his mind be opened up like his body was being opened up. Arwen was in his mind too, delicately touching him with the finesse of someone who is well-practiced at their work. She wove together strands of their spirit, not enough to form a marriage bond, just enough so that they would be aware of one another and at times could communicate by sending emotion to one another. 

And all the while she was inside him, her hips moving against him, the phallus within him turning his mind to sweet delirium. At the very moment he needed it, her hand came down to his cock and slowly began to stroke him, firm long strokes that had him arching up off the floor, sobbing her name. 

With a wordless cry, he came, seed gushing out over her fingers in long streaks. As he panted for breath, she carefully slid from his body. At the same moment she withdrew from his mind, leaving behind only pleasure and devotion, and curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder, smiling to herself as he lay boneless and overwhelmed.


End file.
